Photo of someone unaware Gingers are evil.

::Roger F. Bond Chronicles | Gingers Snap::

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I am Roger F. Bond and I like to tell stories, share shenanigans, pontificate, meander, contemplate, editorialize, and muse. And here is where those things live. These are my chronicles…
The Roger F. Bond Chronicles


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[intense_lead font_color=”#00cbf7″]Hate is a strong word that shouldn’t be bandied about loosely. Evil is just as strong with even graver implications. When Gingers are involved, hate and evil are always appropriately used. So why am I’m torn about a Ginger in front of me?[/intense_lead]

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I’m so fucking conflicted. Fucking Gingers. GotDamn y’all. I’m no different than most guys – I’m attracted to different exotic chicks. What sounds more interesting/exciting/unique/fun, Jennifer from the Valley or Shabalala from Guam? Exactly. So within this world we live and operate within, Gingers are unique, therefore exotic, ergo I’m attracted to them. The one issue – I hate Gingers.

There are very few things I’m afraid of. Snakes. I FUCKING HATE SNAKES! Anything without appendages are evil (except quadriplegics). Ventriloquist dummys. I do not fuck with ventriloquist dummys. Ever. If I see a ventriloquist dummy my initial thought is to smash it to pieces. And clowns. I almost killed a clown out of abject fear once. Clown murder should be permissible for the fact that clowns are demons on Earth. I’m not so blind to the trend in the things I abhor – they are all evil. I fear and loathe evil. Since Gingers have no souls (fact) that makes them evil, right?

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[intense_blockquote color=”#000000″]Shit, she may not have been the most attractive in the train car, but there was something about her that drove me mental the whole trip.[/intense_blockquote]

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On the train last week, a redhead boarded and intentionally stood directly in front of me, the evil witch. She had on some tight ass jeans and knee high boots. Every woman knows that every man’s kryptonite is tight ass jeans and knee high boots only surpassed by tight ass jeans and thigh high boots. She wasn’t the most attractive woman in the world. Shit, she may not have been the most attractive in the train car, but there was something about her that drove me mental the whole trip.

You (meaning, I) can’t deny that there’s something smouldering about a natural redhead. They usually have long ass hair (long hair stays winning). They usually have some pretty ass eyes. Green eyes are pretty on anyone. Fact. And a blue eye red hair combo is beastly. And even though a man can’t have sex with her hair or eyes, them shits be nice. But remember, they have no souls.

My Ginger issue isn’t some irrational thought. My issues are rooted in history. I’m certain a disproportion number of serial killers and mass murderers were Gingys. The postal workers who go postal… Gingers. Chucky the killer doll? Fucking Ginger! A ventriloquist dummy AND a Ginger? I almost lost my mind watching this movie.

I’m sure women imagine what sex is like when they check out a member of the opposite sex. When men look at female Gingers the first two thoughts are 1.) does the curtains match the drapes (I have no idea why men fixate on pubic hair, we just do. It’s childish, but we own it) and 2.) betting that sex with her is passionate as hell (appropriate metaphor when discussing Gingers).

Imagine I make it happen with a Ginger and she uses her evil Ginger ways and somehow negates the condom that I use (safe sex, always) and she ends up preggers with my seed. You know her soulless genome would overpower my righteous genome and the kid, boy or girl, would be her evil (more evil?) doppelgänger. I can’t fathom having a Ginger baby! It’d be like Rosemary’s Baby with me crying hysterically like Mia Farrow as the female Ginger’s (devil) family serves me ginger tea. I don’t want to cry like Mia Farrow. Sorry Ginger young lady with the knee high boots and tight ass, I just can’t spit game to you. I can’t be a part of your wicked ways.

DISCLAIMER: I may have had sex with a Ginger many moons ago but it was during a period of time when I did a long-term temporary stay in another part of the world and I was not in my proper state of mind. Plus I don’t know if what we had really constitutes sex (a story for another day). And I’m not sure if her hair was strawberry blonde which isn’t necessarily a ginger. Right? Right?

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